The drums pounded and I felt it inside me like it wanted to crack my ribs open. I stood in the middle of the crowd with the full moon blazing down, and every eye in the Shadowpine Pack was locked on me.
Tension took hold of me and sweat slid down my back under the white ceremonial robe. This was supposed to be my night. The night my wolf finally woke up and I took my place beside Sveinn Ragnarsson, the Alpha heir everyone said was mine since we were kids.
I caught Sunna Gunnarsdóttir's eye at the front of the crowd. She gave me that quick, tight smile she always used when she was trying to hide nerves. You got this, Elva, she'd whispered earlier while we fixed my hair. You're the strongest one in the pack. Your wolf's probably just fashionably late but I trust you. I'd laughed then. Now the laugh felt stuck in my throat like a bone.
My father, Jakob Bjarnarson, stood off to the side with the other elders. His chest out, beard trimmed sharp, looking every bit the proud Beta. He nodded at me once. That single nod said everything. Don't fuck this up.
My mother, Merja Niskanen, kept her hands clasped so tight her knuckles were red. She wouldn't look at me directly. It was as if she already knew something bad was coming.
Sveinn, my supposed mate stepped forward. He was tall and broad and had silver hair catching the flames the way it always did in my dreams. He wore the black Alpha's sash across his chest. When he smiled at me, my stomach flipped the good way. For a second everything felt right.
"Elva Porsteinsdóttir," he called, voice carrying across the clearing. "Come forward and receive your wolf."
The drums stopped and the immediate silence hit so hard I could feel my heart throbbing. I walked to the stone altar, bare feet cold on the packed dirt. The pack started chanting low, the old words that were supposed to pull the shift out of your blood. I closed my eyes, reached inside the way the elders taught us, and waited for the burn.
... Nothing.
I felt a little twitch in my gut, like a muscle cramp, then nothing. My wolf stayed buried. No claws, no fur, no surge of power. Just me, plain Elva, standing there like an idiot while the chant died away.
Sveinn's smile slipped. "Try again Elva."
I shot him a look and nodded. I tried again. Then again... but nothing. Gods, I tried. I pictured running through the pines, the moon on my back, the freedom everyone talked about but.... still nothing. My hands started shaking. I clenched them into fists so no one would see.
The first whisper rippled through the crowd. Then another. Someone laughed. Short, sharp, mean.
Sveinn's face changed. The warm look he'd given me a thousand times vanished. His eyes went flat. "What the hell is this, Elva?"
"I don't know," I said. My voice came out small. "It's never happened before. Give me a minute —"
"A minute?" He barked a laugh that wasn't funny. "The whole pack is watching. My father is watching. And you can't even call your wolf? What kind of Luna are you supposed to be?"
The words landed like punches. I felt my heart skip a beat. "Sveinn, please. It's just nerves. I've trained for this. I can —"
"You were supposed to be strong." He stepped closer, voice dropping so only I could hear at first, then he raised it so everyone caught every word. "I've been telling my father for years you'd stand beside me. That you were the one. And now? You're nothing. A dud. A broken wolf who can't even shift on her own damn ceremony night."
My chest caved in. I couldn't breathe right, my eyes teary. "You don't mean that."
"Damn right I do!" He turned to the pack, arms spread. "I reject Elva Porsteinsdóttir as my mate. I reject any claim the moon might have tried to force on us. She is no longer promised to me or this pack."
Gasps. Then the roar started. Not cheers. Jeers. Someone threw a rock. It clipped my shoulder and I stumbled. My father's face went stone hard. He didn't move to stop it. My mother turned away completely.
Sunna pushed forward but two warriors grabbed her arms. "Elva!" she yelled. "This is bullshit! Sveinn, you coward —"
"Take her," Sveinn ordered. "Take this degenerate to the cell block. She doesn't leave until she figures out how to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with her. Or until we decide she's worthless."
Rough hands clamped on my wrists. I didn't fight at first. My brain was still trying to catch up. This was Sveinn. The guy who used to sneak me out at night to race through the trees. The guy who promised me the world under this same moon. Now he looked at me like I was dirt on his boot.
They dragged me across the crowd, dirt staining my clothe and my robe tore at the hem in the process. People spat on me and cursed. A kid I used to train with yelled, "Fake! All this time she was fake!" My knees scraped the ground when I tripped. Pain shot up my leg but I bit my tongue so I wouldn't cry out. No way I'd give them that.
Inside my head the thoughts slammed around. This can't be real. Wake up. Wake the hell up Elva! But the cell door was real. The iron bars. The damp smell of old blood and piss. They shoved me in and the lock clicked shut.
I sat on the cold stone floor with my back against the wall, and finally let the tears come. Just for a minute. Then I wiped them with the back of my hand. Crying wouldn't fix shit. I needed to think. Needed to figure out why my wolf wouldn't answer. The elders always said the first shift came easy for blood like mine. My grandmother had been a legend. My father still bragged about it.
I heard footsteps outside. I looked up when it got closer. Sveinn stood there, arms crossed, watching me through the bars like I was some zoo animal.
"You're really doing this?" I asked. My voice sounded raw.
He shrugged. "The pack needs strength. You just proved you don't have it. My father agrees. We're moving the ceremony to next week. I'll pick someone else. Someone who can actually stand beside me."
The words cut deeper than a knife. I stood up slow, my legs shaky. "After everything? All the nights you swore I was it? You're just tossing me like garbage?"
"Garbage gets recycled," he said. "You? You're just taking up space. Stay here until you rot or shift. I don't care which."
He turned to leave. That's when I heard it. Another set of footsteps. Heavy. Not pack boots. These were different; louder, like they owned the ground they walked on.
A man stepped into the torchlight outside my cell. He was tall as hell, shoulders that filled the corridor, dark hair cropped short, scars running down one side of his neck. His eyes locked on mine, sharp enough to cut. Power rolled off him in waves I could feel in my bones even without my wolf awake.
Sveinn stiffened. "King Gunnar Sigurdsson. I didn't expect you until morning."